The Perfect Storm
by Tanith2011
Summary: One detective learns that sometimes it takes that special person to get our point across to those we care about.


**AN: Inspired by an irresistible writing challenge from the talented "briroch". The first three paragraphs are hers and the challenge was to speculate who features in this predicament she has drawn up or write a story based on the prompt.**

 **A little gift to the wonderful ladies of the SOSF yahoo group :-) I'm sorry I've not been able to be more active in recent times or had the time to read all the exciting new stories you've posted for this fandom. I hope to catch up a little soon.**

 **Tanith**

* * *

 **The Perfect Storm**

The persistent ringing of the phone penetrated his heavy sleep like a sharp knife. His unsteady hand reached for it, almost knocking it over. He groaned when he recognised the voice. "Wrong number," he mumbled groggily and slammed down the receiver. Almost instantly the phone started ringing again and he imagined that the ringtone was sounding angrier with every passing second. He pulled the pillow over his head and waited for the noise to stop.

He knew it was only a matter of time until he had to face the inevitable. He sighed and got up, remaining seated on the edge of the bed for a few moments trying to clear his head. He ran a hand through his sleep tousled hair and dragged himself up and slowly plodded towards the bathroom with a quick detour to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. He knew he was going to need it.

Brushing his teeth, the disgruntled SFPD detective then rinsed his mouth and washed his face. His hands ran over the stubble, a result from not shaving over the last couple of days. With a frown he stumbled back to the kitchen to pour himself a large mug of coffee. Sure enough, the inevitable knocking on his front door greeted his ears and sent more sharp shooting pains through his skull. _Might as well get it over with_. Heaving a heavy sigh, he put his mug down, sloshing the contents over the rim.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," the detective grumbled then bellowed, "I _said_ I'm coming!" When he reached the front door, he unlocked it and wrenched it open. "Oh no you don't! Don't you look at me like _that_!"

"What did you expect, Mike?" Steve retorted then forced his way inside.

"I'll tell ya what I expected, wise-guy! I expected you to understand!" Mike countered.

"What? That you took off from the hospital last night without telling anyone? Not even your doctor?" Steve fumed. "What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter? I'll tell you what's the matter!" Mike jabbed his finger into his protégé's chest. "I've had it with getting poked and prodded and fed jell-O day in, and day out. I'm perfectly capable of dressing on my own and feeding myself with something more substantial than jell-O! Now if you'll excuse me, I have….I have to….oh dear…" Mike's venting teetered off as a spell of dizziness overcame him and he reached out to his right side, where the banister of the staircase should have been but his hand found thin air. _Why does it keep moving like that?_

Steve's quick reflexes kicked in. He reached out, gripped his partner's shoulders and steadied him before slowly allowing him to lower himself to sit on the second last step of the stairs. He then straightened up and placed his hands on his hips. "Right. I'm calling Dr. Mulroney."

Mike's head snapped to attention. "You'll do no such thing!" He tried to lift himself up but there were too many Steves all around him that it was just too overwhelming to try to fight his way past all of them so he slumped back down on his behind with a groan.

"Seeing double again, are we?" Steve sarcastically asked.

"Oh, very funny. You just wait till I get my hands on you!" Mike glared at the young man in front of him, or rather one of the young men as there were now four of them.

Steve gave a snort and rolled his eyes. "I'm due west of whoever you're speaking to. Now, come on, let's at least get you on the sofa where you'll…"

"Where I'll be what? Safer?" Mike scoffed.

"I was going to say, _comfortable_ , but have it your way. I'm going to help myself to a cup of coffee." Steve closed the front door then without a second glance at Mike, he walked to the kitchen and casually poured himself a cup of the caffeinated beverage. It wasn't long before he heard a stumble, thud, a string of curses he'd never hear being said if Jeannie was around, followed by the tinkling of broken china then a louder thud and an _umph_ sound.

"Steve?" Mike called hesitantly.

"Hmm?" Steve responded.

"Steve!" Mike called more insistently.

This time, Steve put down his cup and hurried toward the sound of Mike's voice. He paused at the entrance of the living room, a grin spreading on his face. Mike was sitting on the floor beside the broken vase that he had knocked from the coffee table. To Steve, his partner looked rather comical especially with that tousled hair! It amazed him how fast Mike's hair had grown in the last three weeks. It made a nice change that someone other himself needed a haircut, pronto.

"Are you gonna just stand there with that silly grin on your face or are you gonna help me up?" Mike barked.

Shaking his head and tutting under his breath, Steve finally walked over to the grumpy off-duty detective and hauled him to his feet then guided him to the sofa and sat him down in it. He decided, he was going to have to give the older man a stern talking to.

"You gonna tell on me to _Dr. Baloney_?" Mike grumbled.

"It's Dr. Malroney," Steve corrected.

"Whatever," Mike muttered and waved his hand dismissively.

"Now, you listen to me, Michael. Give one good reason why I shouldn't report you to the Captain? You were hit by a car…"

" _Three_ weeks ago!"

"I'm not finished. You were hit by a car and suffered a fractured skull when your head hit the curb. You had swelling on the brain and need I remind you that you aren't due to be released from hospital for another week?" Steve sternly said.

"I made it home without keeling over so I don't see what the fuss is all about," Mike defended.

"We'll see about that," Steve replied, a little too smugly for Mike's liking.

"What's that supposed to mean, hot-shot?"

The front door opened then closed with a slam.

Mike's heart skipped a beat when he heard the unmistakable sound of angry footsteps approaching the living room. "You didn't!" He gasped.

Steve gave his stubborn partner a lopsided grin. "Had to bring in the big guns this time, Stone."

"That's below the belt, Buddy Boy!"

"He's in here!" Steve called out to their visitor.

"I'll never forgive you for this!" Mike shook his head at his partner whom he felt had betrayed him.

Steve stepped aside to reveal a not too happy looking young woman. Correction. A very unhappy young woman.

With her arms crossed across her chest, Jeannie glowered at her father who cowered back into the sofa and tried to charm his way with that smile of his. _Not gonna work this time, daddy_. She drew a deep breath, trying to calm the storm that threatened to be unleashed on her father. "Mike."

 _Oh boy, I'm in trouble._


End file.
